The Smart Money on Casinos

The Other Tribal Dance

Without the option of forging ahead on their own, the Mashpee would find Patrick’s proposal looking better than ever. Fortunately for them, if that happens, they’ll have the Indian-preference clause to give them a boost. Yet as beneficial as it could be to the Mashpee, that undercooked provision could end up having an even more profound—and perhaps unintended—impact on their cross-Sound cousins, the Aquinnah Wampanoag. The Martha’s Vineyard tribe traded in their federal gaming rights as part of a 1987 land settlement deal with the state, and by all accounts have no business being in the casino discussion. Plus, there’s little reason to think any group of people without loads of money and gaming experience (and the Aquinnah have neither) would be a sought-after partner in a casino bid. But that’s where the Aquinnah currently find themselves, thanks to the Indian-preference clause.

Owing to their status as a Massachusetts tribe, the Vineyarders emerged as a force to reckon with in late October when they announced a partnership with the Seneca Nation of New York, old pros in the casino business. The Aquinnah are now searching for another partner (outgoing tribal chairman Donald Widdiss says they need a second one to raise the capital for a casino), and they remain attractive dance partners.

Teaming up with those who already have a site locked down would make the most sense. The best bet, say observers, might be the Mohegan, the tribe who operate Connecticut’s Mohegan Sun casino and hold the option on a 150-acre spread in Palmer. Considering that the fuzzy Indian-preference clause was by all indications written with the Mashpee in mind, it would make for quite a postscript if its chief beneficiaries ended up being an alliance of three other tribes.

The Looming Battle for Boston

There’s fighting, and then there’s fighting in a confined space. No matter how many viable bidders wind up competing for the two other casino licenses, the main event is headed for Boston—and it’s shaping up to be a cage match between proven casino titans. Dorchester-born Sheldon Adelson, CEO of the Sands empire and reportedly the country’s third richest man, is sniffing for a way in. Another hopeful is former Harvard Business School professor Gary Loveman, the head man at Harrah’s Entertainment, the world’s largest gaming company. Suffolk Downs’ new owner, Richard Fields, who made his name rocketing Florida’s Seminole Hard Rock resort casinos off the ground, is also involved. As is Donald Trump, who, well, is Donald Trump.

“Boston’s going to be the Super Bowl. They’re going to come in there and they’re going to propose some pretty grandiose stuff,” says one gaming industry insider. “That’s where the big birds are heading first.”

Given the headwinds against a Boston casino, that’s saying something. A Globe poll last year showed that while 53 percent of Bay Staters were behind the governor’s casino plan, only 24 percent liked the idea of planting one in an urban area. Plus, Patrick’s proposal says that before gaming could come to any community, residents would have to okay it in a referendum. And you can imagine the fire and brimstone that would elicit here.

Still, Boston’s dense population and transportation network are like a siren call to developers. For now, they’re circling the city on the sly—all the better to keep speculation at bay. When casino aspirants scope out potential properties, they’re often using corporate aliases. And the bulk of their effort, so far, has been the quiet prep work needed to launch a bid: things like studying demographic information, creating financial models, and lobbying Beacon Hill. Starting this month, you can expect those efforts to ramp up and get more public. As legislators pick sides, advocates will get louder, with the governor himself taking a lead role in beating the casino drum.

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